


Road Trip to Nowhere

by sanguinary_design



Category: Chris Hemsworth - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Hiddlesworth, M/M, POV Alternating, RPF, Road Trips, Summer, early twenties hiddlesworth, hiddlesworth au, i aged them down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:58:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinary_design/pseuds/sanguinary_design
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a simple road trip to nowhere. What could possibly happen?<br/>As always, pure fiction. No truth to any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Mature rating doesn't really apply yet. It's there because later chapters may or may not include angst, sex, violence, drug use etc. Some of this might not ever apply, but some of it surely will. I just want you to know, from the start, that everything's fair game for me and anything's a possibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Warning: I'm very wordy. It may or may not be your cup of tea. I am a firm believer in delayed gratification.
> 
> Characters, besides Tom and Chris, may be inspired by real people, but I'm not using their real names.

He was unhindered, unleashed, set loose upon the desert. He had long dreamt of this. There were no towers on the horizon, no gratingly quaint suburbia. No, he could do anything. The future, once so certain, was now a kaleidoscope of possibility. There were no images of the rest his life. Those were gone. Being alone meant being free.

Sometimes he would let his eyes linger over his long golden hair whipping over his aviator sunglasses, the glossy reflections in the tangerine side of his car, pleased to find such familiar aesthetic appeal in his left side mirror. 

Hell if he wasn’t keeping his convertible. Not the best vehicle for storage room, gas mileage, or other practicalities, but practicality be damned. These roads were made to be traversed by a car like this. Besides, he packed light. Always did. Only about half his clothes made it into the trunk of the car, never mind the rest of his possessions. He brought only the few items deemed important. He wasn’t going back and she could do whatever she wanted with the rest of his belongings. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. It didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Does anything really matter anyway?

The road was cutting through an evergreen forest, and he wondered exactly when the pines had fully replaced the cacti. The mountain must have a mind of its own. 

The choice had been his, miles back. He could take the highway, which would take him to town in a couple hours at most, or he could take the dim, winding path through the mountain range, which he would probably get lost in. And he’d be lying if he said the risk didn’t make his heart thud heavily and fast.

The sun hung low on the horizon, burning orange. It teased him, as the car wound around the curves of the mount, hiding amongst the trees and behind crags, only to swing out and greet him through the windshield. He had to admit the change in scenery was welcome. Here there were streams that glistened in the fading sunlight.

He hadn’t been watching the time, but he could feel his eyelids get heavier. Would there be anywhere to stop? There was no shoulder to speak of. With the sun setting, even a sign for a ‘scenic overlook’ would be relief. He could park and just sleep in the car. He had done that before. He silently cursed himself for driving into the mountains so late in the evening. He was always doing that. Doing whatever he felt like, not thinking about the possible results until they happened to him.

Just then, he turned a corner to see an expansive three-storied house just down the road. There was a sign out front, lit from below. It read: Cliffrose Bed and Breakfast. Warm light was coming from overhead lights on the front porch, and through the blinds in some of the windows. The left corner of his lips eased his face into a tired half smile. He pulled into the drive. Gravel, by the sound beneath the tires. He used his headlights to find a parking spot. There were about a half dozen other cars that he could see. He drew air into his lungs and let out a long sigh. At least other people were sleeping here. It wouldn’t be like the Bates motel or something. He chuckled to himself. He hoped they had tv.

He put the top up, turned off the engine and the headlights, popped the trunk, and brought out his main suitcase. The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he dragged the suitcase across the gravel lot. He got a better look at the house and saw how far back it went, looking like it had been added on to over the years. 

He took out his phone. 10:17 PM. The lights beyond the door were on quite bright, and he was sure they must have late emergency check-ins like this on rare occasion. He opened the screen door, and propped his suitcase against it to keep it open as he eyed the impenetrable darkness beyond the house. The sun had set long ago. He could barely make out where the forest ended and the house began. Looking back to the house, he took in the ornate green door with worn brass fixtures that stood before him. 

He tried the handle, but the door was locked. It’s not so late they would be sleeping… He tried the doorbell. He could hear it play a simple, dinging segment of ‘ode to joy’. 

He pursed his lips.

A few seconds later, a woman’s voice came from inside the house. 

“Coming!”

He heard floorboards creak under hurried feet. A few latches were undone, and the door swung open. A woman in a lavender robe and matching slippers had her hand on the other side of the door. Her messy brown hair hung loosely around her jaw, just long enough to tickle where the base of her neck met her shoulders. The light from the room behind her cast golden light Her mouth looked happy to see him, but her eyebrows said she was wary. 

“Hello there.” She had the most darling English accent. She tilted her head, eyes flicking downward and back up again. “You interested in a room?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, come on in then.”

She opened the door further and turned her back to him, walking across the room to an impressive wooden desk. 

“I don’t normally wear my pajamas when dealing with customers. You’ve caught me at an odd hour I’m afraid.”  
He followed her to the desk, the wheels of his suitcase thundering loudly across the worn wooden floor. He shifted his weight onto his right leg.

“I’m sorry. I knew it was late, but I’m just visiting. Don’t really know where I am.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She pointed to enormous map behind her. And we’re right here.”

‘Here’ was surrounded by the green of state forest and light blue of rivers. 

The desk had a traditional counter top typical of reception desks. He leaned his right arm on top. She was writing in a book on her side of the desk. 

She then brought the book up to where he was resting his arm. 

“If you could just fill out this information for me.”

He asked about the rate, paid with his card, and asked when breakfast was. He was staying the night, whether it cost him thirty dollars or three hundred. He shifted his weight onto his left leg, trying to ease the aching in his knees. 

He turned the book to face her. She took it in her hands, skimmed it for a moment, then looked up at him.

“Chris.” She subtly grinned at him. “I like it.”

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m Helen.”

She knelt down under the desk, opened and closing one of many drawers. When she stood back up, he held a key in her right hand. It was a brass key, attached to a card by a chrome ring. The card had the number 35 in black relief on the shiny deep yellow plastic. 

“Here you go. It’s on the third floor, farthest down on the left.”

“Thank you.”

“The stairs are just down the hall, but I can show you if you like.”

“That’s alright.”

Card in one hand, suitcase in the other, he began making his way down the hall. While the front room had been brightly lit from both a ceiling light and floor lamp by the desk, the hallway was far dimmer. Prints of landscape paintings lined the walls. There were bathroom doors on his left, but in about fifteen feet, the wall on his right opened up into a large area filled with tables and chairs. A fireplace from another century sat in one wall, along with a doorway into a kitchen. Shaded windows lined two other walls. This must be the breakfast room. He turned around to face the curving staircase. Two flights. He picked up his suitcase, holding it in front of him with both arms, trying not to bang it against anything. The banisters were likely as aged as the rest of the house, probably Victorian. The stairs squeaked and groaned under his every step, but the night wasn’t yet old, and he could hear the vibrations of speech through the walls. 

When he reached the top, he set the suitcase down and walked down the hallway. The numbers on the rooms on his left read 31,… 33,… 35. He unlocked the door with ease, flicked the light switch up, and took in the sight of his room. The lighting was pleasant, and the room, much like the rest of the house, was so very traditional 19th century. There was a bookshelf. There were antlers. But the bed looked very fluffy, and there was a sparkling modern bathroom.

He made quick his nightly routine, content to brush his teeth, strip down to his boxers, set an alarm on his phone, turn out the lights, and clamber into bed. Maybe he would just shut the alarm off when it rang, but then maybe he would eat the breakfast he had already paid for.

The night here was not unlike many nights he had spent elsewhere. No streetlights. No buildings. The shades on the windows blocked out even the moonlight. The darkness was all encompassing. 

**

He awoke to the pinging of his phone alarm. Light was making its way into the room from behind the shades. Shutting off the alarm, he checked the time. 9:00 AM. He couldn’t quite remember what he was dreaming about, but whatever it was left him heavy and disturbed. 5 new texts. He ran his hand down his face, and put his phone away. Never mind all that. He would have breakfast and then keep driving. He stood up, and paced around in front of the bed for a few minutes before getting everything together in his head. 

He unzipped his suitcase, picked out a blue t-shirt and dark jeans. Throwing on his black leather jacket, he put his phone and wallet in his pockets, and checked out how it all came together in the mirror. Solid.

**

There were a couple large, warm silver pans of various foods. The getting was good. He smiled to himself, piling eggs and toast onto a white plate, filling up a mug with coffee. He found a wicker chair, with armrests and a blue cushion, opposite the wall with the fireplace. 

The room was half filled. Helen was chatting to guests, checking on the food, clearing tables, and washing dishes. There was a subtle din of talking and the clanging of dishes. There was an older couple just up from town for the weekend, a bright young family discussing their vacation plans, and a young couple who talked low and blushed. Everyone was talking to someone, except for himself and a young man in the opposite corner of the room,

The man was about his own age. He was holding a book open on the table with his right hand. He was mindlessly using the spoon in his left to make rounds in a black mug of steaming liquid. Sun from the window was hitting his back, lighting up the blonde curls of his hair like a halo. His eyes were set deep, with brows that tilted upwards in the center, giving him a naturally easy expression. He brought the mug up to his mouth and took a sip, eyes closing. He put the mug down and read a few more lines, but his eyes soon broke the back and forth pattern of reading to glance around the room. He licked his bottom lip. Chris couldn’t look down fast enough to avoid glimpsing the translucent grey eyes passing over him. 

After a moment or two, the eyes moved on, but Chris could still see him in the periphery of his vision. The man rolled the sleeves of his plaid button down up to his elbows. The white t-shirt he was wearing under it didn’t leave much to the imagination. He slid his chair back and picked up his mug and book. He walked through the doorway into the kitchen only to emerge mug-less, the book stuffed into the back pocket of his leather pants. 

As he walked back through the dining area, Helen tried to approach him.

“Where are you going?”

There was no response. He just brushed past her.

Chris heard his footsteps as he walked swiftly down the hall. The screen door screeched open then smacked into the doorframe as it closed. Beyond the open window, a motorbike engine suddenly sputtered and growled. 

Helen sighed. 

“Who’s that?” Chris inquired, feeling bold.

“Who? Tom?” She turned to look at him, pointing her thumb towards the door. “He’s my son.”

“Oh.”

“He’s home from college for the summer.” She shrugged, reading his expression. “He’s very nice, really. He’s just not used to answering to anyone now that he’s at school most of the time.” 

“Makes sense.”

She smiled weakly.

“Are you in school?”

“Naw. Never went. I had the grades, but not the interest.”

A few seconds of silence passed. She looked out the front windows.

“I just wish I knew what it is he does all the time. This place doesn’t have much to offer.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not for a strapping young lad like him.” She teased. She had such an endearing smile when she meant it. “Not for one like yourself either I should think.”

“I’m just passing through.”

“So you’ll be heading out today then?”

“Yeah.” 

“Ok, just tell me when you’re ready to check out.” Helen smiled, and leaned her palms on the edge of the table. “If you’re wondering about gas, there’s a little town about twenty minutes from here. It’s not much, but they have gas.” 

She nodded down at his plate, and continued.

“You done with that?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic. I welcome constructive criticism, but please be mindful this is my first ever. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Life ripped me a new one. My computer died. That's why I haven't updated in ages. Sorry. I would have posted sooner, but shit happens. Thanks for being patient. :)

She had no idea the shit he was in, attributing the shaking of his hands simply to his tea habit and not seeing the bags under his eyes he could mask so well with a small helping of concealer. 

Tom loved his bike. It was his ticket out of the house. And as much as he loved her, he couldn’t stand being at the hotel all the time.

Even then, he should have said something. He shouldn’t have run out on her like that. It wasn’t her fault. He didn’t have a good excuse for being so tense, so on edge. He had nothing to say when she asked what was the matter, her brows raised and head cocked to the side. So he’d say ‘nothing’ and try to plaster on a smile. It didn’t always work. He would snap. 

And in moments he was lost in thought he would find himself biting the inside of his cheek, jutting out his jaw, and sighing. A lot. More so than ever before. And knowing he was so short with everyone made him short with himself. He didn’t like it.

However, with a clear cerulean sky above, and winding mountain roads below, he felt his breathing deepen and shoulders relax. The bike hummed below him as he leaned in and out of the frequent turns.

He shook his head slightly, though his helmet weighed him down. His shirt rippled and whipped across his arms and chest. Being on the bike made the heat, normally so oppressive, so much more tolerable.

That was when he saw the deer leap onto the road. 

He hit the brake and gripped the handlebars, pulling a muscle in his thumb. Every muscle in his body contracted. Please don’t. Stop. The animal bounced across his lane. Tires screeched and burnt, as he willed the bike to stop and tried to jerk the bike around the deer. It wasn’t enough. 

The front of his bike slammed into deer’s shoulder, catapulting him over the handlebars. 

His shoulders hit first, the impact rendering him limp as he rolled across the scalding pavement. He lay on the road absorbing what had just happened. He hit a deer. Okay. He was conscious. Okay. Get out of the middle of the road.

He was too pumped with adrenaline not to stumble up onto his feet. He hobbled over to the edge of the road, leaning on the guardrail, feeling its scorching edge through the back of his pants. The deer was up the road a bit, and the bike not far from it. Splashes of blood were scattered nearby. The front of the bike was slick with blood and fur. What if someone were to round the corner right now, and run right into his mangled bike and the bloody deer? This wasn’t exactly a busy road, but he wasn’t going to try his luck today. He pulled out his phone. It had a set of brand new jagged lines running across a black screen. Lovely.

He took his helmet off, and let if fall unceremoniously onto the dirt. He could feel the sun beating down on him, hot on the back of his neck. A throbbing pain he had been vaguely aware of was now searing through his legs and shoulders and up through his neck, and he winced as he sat down next to his helmet. He took in the fresh gashes on his forearms, and began scratching the gravel out of his raw palms with his nails.

**

Well, that was fun. Seen it. Slept there. Ate there. Got the map. Next?

Chris packed up all his things and checked out. He had said goodbye to Helen and confirmed the location of the little town with the gas station, but he still wasn’t sure he would ever find it.

Now, pulling out of the parking lot, he wasn’t sure about where he would go after he found said gas station. But that sort of decision would always get pushed back until the very last moment. 

And so he found himself on the road again.

Maybe he should just stay somewhere for a while. You know, see something, talk to someone, camp out, hike. Sure, there was some of that, but those outings made him mostly just want to get in the car again. Every town, every city, every destination was good for a little while, but eventually something would happen that would fuel his desire to get away. 

He was caught up in his head again, taking the car around the ridiculous blind turns, the radio unable to drown out the thoughts. 

He rounded another bend, and all thought dissipated. A bloody green motorbike was strewn across the middle of his lane.

“Shit.”

He slammed on his brakes and veered into the left lane to avoid the mess. There was some sort of animal too, and a person sitting in front of the guardrail, in the pathetic excuse of a shoulder. He slowed the car to a stop, pulling over as far to the right as he could. Turning off the engine and stuffing his keys in his pocket, Chris stepped out of the car onto the road. He shut the door behind him and took in the scene. The words fell right out.

“Oh my god.” 

The animal turned out to be a hefty doe, fur ripped and eyes dead. A trail of dark blood marred the asphalt between it and the bike. Up the road, the person was sitting, head down, picking at something in his hands. As Chris nears him, he began to recognize the long limbs, plaid top and dark pants, and the curls of his blonde hair. It was that kid from the hotel. Tom. His shirt was torn in places, his pants scuffed, and sections of the skin on his forearms had been scratched off. A scratched black and white helmet lay in the dirt beside him. Bits of gravel were stuck in the wounds on his arms.

Chris walked towards Tom, who looked up as he spoke.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone? An ambulance?”

Tom cracked a pained smile. God, he can practically see through his eyes they’re so clear.

“Don’t bother. There’s no hospital around here, so if you called they’d send a helicopter. I’d probably be lunch for some hungry vultures by the time they got here.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t look too good.”

Chris pointed at Tom’s arms. Tom turned them over, as though reassessing the damage.

“I don’t think it’s too bad. It’s my legs that I’m concerned about. I don’t know if I can walk. I mean, if I could I would hardly still be here, right?”

He gestured to the ground around him.

“Yeah.” Chris laughed. “Do you have a towing place you could call?”

“Yes, I do, my mechanic. But alas, my phone…”

He pulled out his phone to show Chris, cracked screen and all.

“Ah.. Well, I have one that works. I can call for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Listen, mate, it’s no problem. I can hardly leave you sitting there.”

“Thank you so, so much. I don’t remember the number, but you can call 411.”

“Right.”

Chris pulled out his phone and typed in 4-1-1.

“You’re a life saver.” 

Tom smiled, then pulled at the hem of his tattered shirt.

“And my shirt positively ruined.”

Chris smiled, and handed Tom the ringing phone.

“Naw, mate. Looks good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short. I figured it was better to get this out now than make people wait any longer! I will update again soon now that I have a new computer. Thanks. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure these somewhat shorter chapters popping up at least once a week is better than longer chapters popping up a lot less frequently. Here's another! I hope you enjoy it.

“Al said she could be here in ten minutes.” 

Tom ended the call and handed Chris’ phone back to him. Heat was shimmering in silver pools on the surface of the road. The air was unusually still. Chris leaned back against the guardrail, feeling the hot metal ridge through the seat of his jeans. The silence hung for several minutes. 

It was Tom who finally spoke.

“Hey, thanks for everything. I’m sorry you have to spend your morning like this. I know you probably had plans. Sorry.”

“Seriously, I’m happy to help. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Besides, I don’t have plans.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’d hate to somehow ruin your day.” He paused. “I feel I know you from somewhere.”

“I’m staying at the Cliffrose. Well, I was anyway. Checked out this morning.” 

“Ah.” Tom nodded and smiled. “That’s it. I saw you at breakfast.” 

“Yeah. It was very good, I must say.”

“Mum will be happy to hear it.” 

Tom laughed. His smile was wide and white, causing dimples in his cheeks. His pale eyes were somehow more blue than they were earlier. And he had the kindest eyebrows. Strange way to put it, but it seemed like a fitting word to describe their gentle slope. For some reason one of them fancied staying further above his eyes than the other, a quirk to his otherwise symmetrical face. It was somehow very endearing.

Okay, had he been staring? For how long? Chris quickly looked back to the road, and asked a question in an attempt to dispel any potential awkwardness.

“What were you reading?”

“Hmm?”

“You had a book with you this morning.”

“Ah, yes.” Tom winced as he twisted to reach into his pants pocket. ”Othello. One of my favorites.”

Tom pulled out a tattered red paperback. The top corners looked freshly ripped, and the spine looked ready to separate. He turned it over in his hands, wiping off the rubble. 

“I’ve had this copy for ages, but it would seem it’s finally at death’s door.” 

“Shakespeare, right?”

“Yes. I know it probably seems pretentious or something, but I really love it. It’s so dynamic and still relevant. Once you get past the wording, the personal relationships and issues are what really stick out. And I don’t think most people see that. I think they get turned off by the wording and the fact that they’re forced to read it in high school. My interest started outside of school. I was lucky.” Tom winced again, and shifted his left leg. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’ll talk your ear off once you get me started.”

Chris could listen to him for hours. Actually, he was beginning to think a whole audio book of just Tom talking would be to die for. He had such a lovely accent, just like Helen.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. I like your passion.”

Tom smirked and put the book down on his lap.

“Where are you headed?”

“Uh…” Chris paused as he thought. “The Grand Canyon.”

“Ah, yes. That is a classic destination.”

Something in Tom’s voice made Chris think he didn’t believe him.

“By the way, I’m Chris. And I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Tom.”

“Tom. I like it.” Chris grinned. 

Tom raised his right eyebrow, positively beaming.

The sounds of a hefty motor vibrated through the air as a large black truck with enormous yellow word ‘Al’s’ on the side slowly came around the corner.

 

**

 

Al walked around the bike a couple times then knelt to examine the damage. She had an elegant heart shaped face and wore a bandana on her head to keep the mass of curly, bright ginger hair out of her way. She had shapely muscles and she wore the sleeves of her tee shirt up around her shoulders. Chris had the impression she did it on purpose.

“Look’s like it’s not too bad.” She said, stand up and wiping her hands on her jeans. “I’ll bring it to the shop with me since you can’t exactly ride like that.” 

She gestured to Tom, who was still sitting on the side of the road. He smiled gratefully.

Al lowered the ramp on the back of her truck and then turned to Chris.

“Could you give me a hand righting this?”

Together, they lifted the bike to its upright position. He grimaced slightly as he felt the tacky blood on his fingers. They guided the bike onto the bed of the truck, and laid it down on its side. Once the straps and chains were secure, Al lifted the ramp.

Al wandered over to Chris, searching him over with deep brown eyes. 

“So, Mr. Playgirl calendar, who are you?”

“That’s Chris.” Tom interjected. “He’s a friend of mine… from college.”

Chris could almost see the wheels whirring in Al’s head.

“I see. So the plan is that you’ll drive him back?”

Tom opened his mouth as if to speak.

“Yes.” Chris interjected quickly.

Tom raised his eyebrows again.

“Well all right then.” She gave Chris a questioning look, then crouched in front of Tom. “You feel well enough to make it to the car?”

“I think so.”

“Here, we’ll each take a side.”

Chris put his right arm out as an offer. Tom grasped his wrist with his left hand with long warm fingers. Putting his other hand on Tom’s shoulder, he and Al pulled Tom up onto his feet. He brought his arms up and laid them across both of their backs. Chris lowered his arm to support Tom’s back. Tom’s left leg hung loose and limp at a slightly off angle. He leaned into Chris and they slowly made their way to Chris’ convertible. 

Tom cringed again as he lowered himself into the passenger side. 

“Hey, Playgirl, take good care of him, alright? I don’t want to read about this in the papers tomorrow.”

“No problem.”

“All right, sweet cheeks, I’ll see you in a day or two once I’ve cleaned it up, worked out the dents, and checked it out. I’ll call you at the hotel since your cell’s dead, k?”

She closed the door.

“You’re the best, darling.”

“You know it, Tommy.” She beamed and jokingly batted her eyelashes.

And with that she sauntered back to her truck. 

 

**

 

“That’s an awesome bike, by the way. I mean, it must be normally, minus the blood and all.“

Tom chuckled.

“Thank you.”

“Do you ride a lot?” 

The trees whizzed by as Chris drove around the sharp corners. 

“All the time. I don’t have a car. I got the bike just last year. You know, I’ve never crashed it before? Never even scraped it, but I suppose the day had to come eventually.” Tom shifted his leg again. “I don’t know what I’ll do without it, even for a couple days. The wind. The rush. It’s electrifying.” He glanced at Chris, hoping to make eye contact. “But you obviously know what that’s like.”

“Yeah. I do.” Chris smiled. Wow, eyes cerulean like the sky. That’s a nice word: cerulean.

“Oddly enough, Al liked you. She doesn’t like a lot of people.”

“Really? She seemed very nice.”

“No, she’s plenty nice. But very short with people. She liked you, though, Mr. Playgirl.”

“Oh come off it.” Chris laughed heartily.

“I’m serious. She likes a guy with muscles.”

Chris shot him a look of disbelief.

“But what about ’Tommy?’ and ‘Sweet cheeks’?”

“She’s not really my type.”

“Mm-hmm. So, what is your type?”

Tom shrugged, as if he didn’t know.

Chris shook his head, grinning.

“Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“So, where are you going?” Tom asked.

Chris looked puzzled. “The Grand Canyon. Coulda sworn I mentioned it.”

Who did he think he was fooling?

“No, you’re not. Come on, where are you really going?”

“That’s top secret, mate.” Chris smiled again.

“You’re not a good liar, Chris.”

“So, you don’t think I’m really going there?” 

“Well, you weren't very convincing. If you’re really going to try to pull one over on someone, you’ve got to do better than that.”

“What reason do you have not to believe me?” 

Was that a flash of annoyance in his eyes?

“Because if you left the hotel this morning going the same direction you were going last night, that wouldn’t lead you to the Canyon. That would lead you the opposite direction.”

Oh shit. Should not have said that… Should not have said that…

Chris shrugged. Did he notice?

“Why should it matter?” 

“Because now I’m stuck, in your car, with a bum leg. You’re a total stranger”

A stranger who’s been nothing but nice.

Chris moved his right hand off the wheel over the air space above the gear shift, in between the two of them. He hovered for a moment, before bringing his hand back to the wheel.

“Tom, I’m bringing you back to the hotel.” Chris looked in his eyes. “Look, I’m from Illinois. I’m twenty-one. I like cars, swimming, and movies. I never went to college. Uh… I bought this car about two years ago as a celebration for a new job…”

Chris thought spilling out facts would help him feel better? They were probably lies, like the lie about driving the Canyon. If he was okay lying about where he was going, then what made him think he would believe him about anything else? Well, he hasn’t done anything bad yet, and we’re almost there.

Another pang of pain shot through his leg, causing him to suck in air through his teeth. Something felt out of place in his leg, like a chunk of something inside the right part of his knee had been forced too far to the left. Every time he tried moving it, the pain worsened.

Tom watched the pines pass the window, and decided to break the silence.

“Thank you.” There was that confused look again. “I’m sorry for that. You seem very nice.”

“It’s alright.”

“I’m twenty-one also. And a bit of a cinephile myself, I must admit.”

“Cinephile? Like cinema?”

“Yes, exactly.”

There. That helped smooth things out. Tom chewed the inside of his lip. 

If Chris was a psychopath, at least he was charming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we are. I have most of this planned out already, but I'm always open to suggestions! Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I don't have a good excuse.

It would seem that today was not his day to die. 

Tom sat in the den, feet propped up on an ottoman and a glass of iced tea by his side. The television was buzzing with a talk show, and the sun had made it over the house. It filtered through the venetian blinds, striping the walls with golden light. 

Chris had dropped him off, just like he had said he would. In fact, he made sure Tom got to the den in the back of the house on the first floor and was comfortably propped up on the couch. Tom had probably said sorry about five times. The man really went out of his way. And he had said he would be back. As if Tom hadn’t already ruined his vacation, or whatever he was doing. He wasn’t going to the Grand Canyon. That much was for sure. But why would he lie about that? He didn’t know the direction he was going, which meant he either made a mistake when thinking up his lie, or he is just lost and doesn’t want to admit it.

Once Chris had left, Helen had taken her turn fussing over him, ‘doing her motherly duty’ as she liked to put it. He had spent most of the day sitting on the couch where Chris left him, flipping through channels and napping. He went to the kitchen once or twice to get food, but his mother had sent him back to the den and insisted he rest.

She had just gotten a fresh bag of ice from the freezer and strapped it around his leg with a medical bandage.

Tom heard loud footsteps coming down the hall, in synch with the rustling of a plastic bag. 

Chris walked in, grocery bag slung around his arm at the elbow, a big grin planted on his face. 

“I actually found a place to buy groceries. I was beginning to wonder how you guys get food here.” Chris opened the bag and rifled through it. “I got us some popcorn, chocolates, and pudding!”

“Wow! That’s fantastic. Thank you.”

“No problem, mate.”

“How did you know I love pudding? And chocolate?”

“Lucky guess.” Chris smiled, placing the bag down on a side table. “Would you mind if I sat with you?”

“No. Go right ahead.”

Tom felt the couch move under him, adjusting to Chris’ weight as he sat down next to him.

“So you mentioned a new job. What do you do?”

“Well, I think I’m technically unemployed. I sorta… left without the normal two week notice.”

“Oh. Why the hurry?”

“I dunno.” Chris shrugged. 

More lies. Good god, the man was really bad at lying.

“Well, I’m unemployed as well. Except I’m a student for most of the year. I mean, I help out at the hotel, but that hardly counts. And I know getting a degree in literature probably won’t help with the job situation, but it’s never really been about that for me.”

“What is it about?”

“I’m still working on it. But I know it’s not about that.” 

Chris looked at the television set. The stripes of sunlight fell across his shoulders and ignited his hair with light. 

“Hey do you like video games?” Tom offered, changing the subject.

“Yeah. Of course. What do you have?”

 

**

The sun had set a while ago. They had been playing for hours, laughing, discussing their favorite games and movies as they played. The room was now dark and cast in artificial light from the television. The den was at the end of the first floor hallway, tucked away behind the stairs. It wasn’t very late, but Tom was happy the guests wouldn’t be walking by or be disturbed by the noise from the game.

“Hey do you think you could hand me a pudding cup?”

Chris nodded, put the game on pause, and broke off two cups, handing one to Tom and keeping one for himself.

“So, I hope it doesn’t seem rude or anything, but what do you do here? Where did you go to high school? Does anyone else live around here?”

“I went to boarding school, actually. And there are plenty of things to do, if you like dive bars and woods.”

“Not at all. It's charming.” 

Damn Chris had such an endearing smile.

“You’re too easy on it.”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

“Want to play something else?” Chris asked.

“Sure. But do you want to pick something single-player? I’m tired and I just want to watch you play.”

“Yeah. Alright.”

Chris popped in a new disc, and sat back on the couch. 

“I haven’t played this one before.”

“Oh, it’s one of my favorites. Great gameplay. Pretty thought-provoking too.”

“Why is everything yellow?”

“Just the style. I think it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” 

Chris slouched into the back of the couch. 

“Are you comfortable? Does it hurt still?”

“Yes, but it’s more uncomfortable than painful. I think I’ll try to go out and walk on it tomorrow.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“I think so. I can’t stay in here forever. I’m already fighting cabin fever.”

“Then we’ll go out tomorrow. I’ll take you. If you’ll let me.”

“I would love that.”

“Convinced I’m not dangerous then?”

“You, as a complete stranger, waited with me after I had an accident, drove me home, came back with pudding, and entertained me all evening. I think if you had wanted to hurt me, you would have done that while I was sitting injured in the passenger seat.”

“True. I’m actually amazed you went with me. You could have called a friend and had them pick you up. Or Al. She probably could have. Why did you take me up on my offer?”

“You seemed genuine. Besides, I was startled. I wasn’t exactly doing much thinking.”

Chris looked at him with bright blue eyes, the screen illuminating the left side of his face. Tom tried to face him, turning as far as his propped up leg would allow.

“Do you want me to turn the lights on?” Chris asked, voice low.

“No, that’s alright. I like it like this.”

“Me too.” Chris put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Look, Tom, I… I… Nevermind.” He took his hand away. “Well, it’s pretty late now, and I’d hate to be a burden…”

“Far from it. Please stay. This is the best time I’ve had in a while.”

“Alright.”

Chris leaned back, smiling at him. Shoving all doubts from his mind, Tom leaned into him, resting his head on his shoulder.

The accident must have messed with his head. That must be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. There it is. I know it's short. Good news is, it's already started. I'm finding fluff so hard to write. It's hard for me to explore my happy romantic side. More to come soon. Thank you for being so patient with my ridiculous self.


	5. Chapter 5

Ding-ding-ding. 

Tom opened his eyes. He lifted his head off Chris’ shoulder as gently as he could. That must be Chris’ phone. Text message, probably. The clock on the television set read 9:54. His mother was surely already awake and serving the guests in the dining room. He knew in that moment that she had walked in earlier that morning to find Chris and Tom asleep on the couch together. What would she say? It was innocent enough, but… At least she had the grace to let them sleep.

Natural light filled the room, and Tom rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The ice had melted and condensation from the bag left his pants wet around the knee. He hadn’t really thought that one through. He moved his leg around, checking to see if it still hurt. Something inside felt out of place and stiff, but at least he wasn’t in much pain.

And then something told him to find Chris’ phone. Tom looked over at the man next to him, sprawled out over the couch, legs touching the floor. He hadn’t awoken, and the man had so many bad lies, it made him curious. There was so much he had obviously and blatantly kept from him. Maybe his phone would provide an iota of truth. Tom unlocked the phone. 

‘1 new message’. From ‘Lily’.   
It read: ‘I miss you’

Who’s Lily?

Chris shifted, squinting his eyelids together. Tom turned off the phone screen and placed it down as quietly and quickly as possible. Chris rubbed his eyes with his hands.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Tom.”

He didn’t know why Chris was so familiar. He had met the man only yesterday, and should know better than to trust someone so blindly, especially one who had such a penchant for lying to him. But somehow, charming people can pull the wool over people’s eyes. Lily could easily be Chris’ girlfriend. Tom wished he had gotten more time with Chris’ phone… but that wasn’t right of him, was it? That was sneaky, and made him untrustworthy as well.

“Wow, look at all that water.” Chris looked down at the small puddle of water on the wooden floor under Tom’s leg. “We should probably put that pack back in the freezer.”

“Yeah.”

Chris pushed the blanket off and stood up.

“Here. Let me.”

Chris bent over and undid the bandage.

“Does it feel any better?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t hurt any more. Just feels a bit weird. I think it’s just sprained.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

“I’m still up to go out, if you’re still interested.”

“Yeah, of course I am.”

**

Tom had made it to the car without too much help. Chris had turned the radio on, and they had let the music fill the silence. It was such a relief, to not feel the need to talk. Besides, talking would just mean forcing another lie out of his mouth. Tom knew he wasn’t going to the Grand Canyon, and he knew he wasn’t being truthful about how long he would be staying. Why Tom wanted to be around him, he could only guess at. Maybe he was just as lost and insane as Chris, and was simply a much better liar.

Tom had chosen their destination. They had driven some fifteen minutes down a dirt road to a place where the river was slow and wide, almost devoid of a current. On the opposite shore, red sandstone ledges jutted out into and above the water. Heat haze rippled on the hood of the orange convertible. The sky was blue once again, and the river ran clear. 

They stood barefoot on the sandy bank.

“It’s all so beautiful.”

“You should see it when it rains. This entire little river turns into these insane rapids. See that rock up there?” Tom pointed to the curved red stone across the river. “That slightly darker rock, that’s about how high it got last year. When it rains, all the water runs into the rivers because the sand’s so dry, it runs right off it.”

“It looks pretty full as it is now. Where does this water come from?”

“Snow melt from the peaks. It’s a really consistent flow.”

“So if we see any clouds, we should run back to the car?”

“Well, yes, but there’s not a cloud in the sky.”

“I’ve noticed there never is.”

“So, I figured it’s a good day to swim. What do you think?”

“I think it’s not nearly hot enough.”

Tom turned away from him and pulled his shirt and jeans off to expose his swim trunks. He let the garments unceremoniously fall onto the sand, and he waded into the water, turning back to face Chris.

“Well, come on in.”

Chris hesitation for a moment, but then shrugged off his doubts. He briefly wondered why Tom felt so damn comfortable around him. Then he, mimicking Tom, removed his jeans and his shirt, and waded into the river. 

The cool water lapped against his legs, almost too cool, but not quite enough to make him want to get out. Just being in the water again after so long felt so right. It had been too long since he had been around water. This wasn’t exactly surfing, but it was as good as it was going to get. 

Tom swam over to him, wincing as he found his footing on the riverbed. His hair was wet and slicked back with water.

“You know what I think, Chris?” Tom asked rather rhetorically. “I think you’re running from something. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I know it’s not good.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’m not expecting you to.”

He grabbed Tom’s shoulder.

“Then what are you expecting?”

“Let me fill you in on something. First, you’re just the type of person I’ve been looking for.”

“Hmmm?”

Chris could feel himself looking down, watching the water drip down Tom’s body. Something caught his eye. The skin on Tom’s stomach was riddled with long faint scars, seemingly erratic.

“Second, I think-”

“How did you get those?”

“What?”

Tom looked down at his stomach.

“Ah… uh… previous accident. I’m pretty clumsy.”

“But, didn’t you say…?”

Chris let his question die off. If this was the game they were going to play, then fine. Beautiful people can pull the wool over people’s eyes. It wasn’t polite to pry, even when you had been lied to.


End file.
